Infinite DC - Tales of the Caped Crusader
by J.A.Phillips
Summary: A/U As Bruce Wayne contemplates if his father would be proud of the decisions he's making, he learns that, for one night, Thomas Wayne was The Batman. But why, and how did Bruce never learn of this until now? Only one man can tell him the truth.
1. Chapter 1

**_DISCLAIMER:_ Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I don't own squat in this story, except for the actual plot, and even then, I take many a cue from other established continuities created for Batman. That said, this exists in its own continuity and should not be considered to be part of any already defined by the comics, television series, or movies.**

* * *

Home again. After a long night's work, Bruce Terrance Wayne, billionaire playboy and heir of the Wayne Family Fortune, was home again. But not home again to his mansion, though he was sure he'd be arriving there soon enough. No, home again to a dark, grungy, dank cave filled with bats and rats and all manner of computers and high tech equipment. And he didn't arrive in a limo, but rather a dark and sleek monster of an auto-mobile, equipped with about as much gadgetry as he himself was.

Coming to a halt, Bruce sighed as he opened the canopy of the vehicle. He swung his body out, his heavy boots hitting the ground. He made his way over to his main computer, his dark blue, almost black cape draped around himself like a cloak. Reaching up, he pulled back his dark, bat-like cowl, his tired eyes now bare instead of being hidden behind the white lens of his cowl. Finally, he reached his destination: the computer chair. Knowing he would be spending a number of nights in front of his computer, who knows how many hours digging through files, Bruce decided it best to get as comfortable a computer chair as money could buy. After all, sitting too long in an uncomfortable computer chair could have bad repercussions on his body, and the less exploitable targets on him when he was doing his 'night job', the better.

"Good morning, Master Bruce," he heard a kind and elderly voice call out from the nearby stairwell.

Bruce blinked, taken slightly by surprise. Not an easy thing to do to the Dark Knight. He turned to face his butler, who was carrying a silver tray with...breakfast? "...Morning?"

"It's 5:27 AM, sir," Alfred replied. "Nearly time for breakfast. So I thought it best to have it ready for you."

"The nights are getting longer, Alfred," Bruce groaned, rubbing his temples. "I didn't even realise how late it was..."

"Fortunate for you, Mr. Fox has everything covered for today's operations at Wayne Enterprises," Alfred went on, placing the tray on the computer console. "Also, you'll be happy to know young Master Richard finished his homework, no faults that I could tell...**_Good heavens, sir!_**"

Bruce's eyes glanced to Alfred's, seeing what he was looking at: A large gash in the left side of the bat-suit, and a nasty looking cut exposed for all the world to see. "It's not as bad as it looks, Alfred."

"Master Bruce, I absolutely insist you let me stitch and bandage that up for you immediately!" Alfred pressed. "If left exposed, it could become infected!"

Bruce sighed hard. He knew his butler all too well: If he said Bruce was going to have medical attention right now, he meant **RIGHT NOW**. And while Bruce might be Batman, the Caped Crusader, the man who spent nights cracking the jaws of criminals with ease, the one opponent he could never defeat was the old man standing before him. After all, only someone as stubborn as Bruce could ever live to deal with him.

"...Let's just get this over with, alright?"

* * *

The stitches hadn't been that bad. They never were. After all, Alfred had spent time as a field medic in the military in his youth, taking care of wounds inflicted to troops in the middle of harsh fire-fights. He had a lifetime of experience stitching up wounded soldiers. And really, Bruce thought as he made his way toward his bedroom, he was no different. Just a slightly different kind of soldier, fighting a VERY different kind of war.

Before arriving at his room, he stopped at a door to a different room: What was once Bruce's bedroom when he was a child, now with a different occupant. Carefully easing the door open, he looked inside. The room's sole occupant, a dark-haired youth, aged 13, was sound asleep in his bed. Apparently it had been all too easy for Alfred to convince Dick to get his homework all done in one night, even though it was now the weekend. After all, he was nearing the end of his training, and had been chomping at the bit to finally join the Dark Knight in the field for a patrol, to battle the scum of Gotham City as a crime-fighter, a superhero.

_What am I doing?_ Bruce wondered as he closed the door and continued to his room. _It's bad enough I didn't have a childhood, that I dragged myself into a war with crime and darkness and evil, now I'm doing the same thing to a completely different child? As if his innocence weren't shattered enough by that bastard Zucco, now I'm dragging him along to play sidekick to the Dark Knight?_

Although that wasn't entirely accurate, Bruce realised as he entered his bedroom, tossing his robe onto a chair. He'd lobbied to become Dick's legal guardian after what had happened to Dick's parents and learning he had no other living relatives that could possibly take him in. Dick had made the choice to sleuth for leads on Tony Zucco, the man who murdered his parents. Dick learned Bruce's identity as Batman and insisting that he train him, let him become his partner. And, much like Alfred, somehow this boy turned out to have just the stubborn streak to get Bruce to agree. And his innocence wasn't shattered, so to speak. Despite having his parents die in front of his eyes, Dick had, over the past few months, shown moments of child-like happiness. And even though there was always a part of him that wanted to find Zucco and bring him to justice, he still looked at being a crime-fighter as being some kind of adventure. So different from how Bruce saw it.

Climbing into bed, Bruce looked up at the portrait hanging over his fireplace: That of his parents, looking so happy as the painter they'd hired did his work so marvellously. "...Mother. Father. Am I doing the right thing? I wish I knew for sure..."

* * *

It was the afternoon, and Bruce and Alfred were watching as Dick ran through his training course in the Bat Cave. He was doing rather impressively, breezing past laser traps, sliding steel obstacles, and goop-filled Batarangs. Bruce knew he could've never managed the obstacle course at this level when he was Dick's age. Of course, given his upbringing in the circus, it was only natural that he'd have an advantage over Bruce. Speaking of, he'd even gone so far as to redesign Bruce's old training outfit to reflect his family colours in the circus, going from a simple black to include lots of red, green, and yellow. He'd kept the R emblem, which had stood for Robin, since Dick's favourite hero as a child was Robin Hood, something that had brought a smile to Bruce's face. Yes, they would be Batman and Robin.

A buzzer sounded as Dick reached the end of the course. "Phew! What was my time?"

Bruce looked back to the timer, and it took all he had not to look or sound astonished, as to keep Dick from getting too cocksure. "...2:17. A new record for this level."

"Alright!" Dick shouted triumphantly. "Man, right now I feel like I could take that again!"

"One step at a time, Dick," Bruce replied with a smirk. "Let's look over the footage first, and see if we can pick out anything you could impro-"

Bruce was cut off as an alarm went off on the computer, one he'd set up for when particularly urgent calls went out on the police radio. Checking the computer, he immediately learned the cause: A break-in at the Gotham Radio Tower. Within moments, Bruce's hand was to his cape and cowl, slipping them on over his bat-suit, which he'd had on in case he felt like running the obstacle course himself.

"Gotham Radio Tower," Bruce declared, heading to where the Batmobile was parked. "Dick, continue your training. I'll be back soon."

"But Batman-!" Dick cried, his pleas left unanswered as Batman leaped into the Batmobile, driving off as soon as he could. "...Right. Continue training..."

Alfred placed a gentle hand to Dick's shoulder, looking to him sympathetically. "You'll have your chance soon enough, Master Richard."

Dick just stared down at the floor dejectedly. "...Yeah, maybe, when I'm 72 and have scoliosis..."

"...Or until Master Bruce grows old enough to be bound to a wheelchair and unable to stop you." Alfred half-joked, which managed to get a grin from the young teen.

_Though then again, if he continues to have nights like he has been, that day might come sooner than later..._Alfred added to himself, staring off to where the Batmobile had peeled away, praying to God that he was wrong.

* * *

As the Batmobile raced out from the hidden entrance to the Bat Cave, a single man watched on from the shadow of a nearby tree. A man dressed in light brown fedora and trench-coat, watching with interest as the Dark Knight raced by, unaware of his presence. He frowned as he sensed feelings of regret, anger, sadness, and confusion wash over him, all coming from the sole occupant of the Batmobile. He reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket-watch, and while the current time would have no meaning to anyone else that saw it, for him, it meant something quite dire: He was running low on time.

"...It seems I have no alternative," the man said, closing his pocket-watch. "He must be made aware of what happened all those years ago. He must know the truth about The Batman. He must know what you did...Thomas..."

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** Whew! Been a while since I've been writing here on Fan Fiction Dot Net. Regardless, I decided to write this story after some inspiration hit me while writing about How Would I Rebuild The DC Universe From Scratch on my blog, as well as rewatching episodes of Batman: The Animated Series and watching clips of the upcoming Batman: Arkham Origins. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter what probably won't be a very long fanfic, unless I decide otherwise. Ja né!


	2. Chapter 2

**_DISCLAIMER:_ Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I don't own squat in this story, except for the actual plot, and even then, I take many a cue from other established continuities created for Batman. That said, this exists in its own continuity and should not be considered to be part of any already defined by the comics, television series, or movies.**

* * *

They hadn't seen him coming. Only on rare occasion do they ever. Even after operating as Batman for almost 4 years, criminals hadn't gotten wise to his usual tactics of catching them off-guard. Not that it mattered, since Bruce knew counter measures if they did, but at this point, it was becoming almost distressingly easy to swoop in and drop-kick the biggest and strongest of them into a wall, thus catching his smaller associates off-guard and scaring them stiff from the start. That was key, taking the strongest link out of the fight first. Without him, the others usually fell rather quick to the Caped Crusader.

Sure enough, with the biggest and most heavily armed of the group knocked out, Batman found the others less than a threat, though God help them, they tried. Gotham Radio Tower was an actual building for the most part, with floors and rooms, so Batman had plenty of space to square off with the goons, albeit save for a few random poles and wooden crates. One goon grabbed a rather hefty looking iron pipe, swinging it like a baseball bat. Of course, he was missing Batman by a mile. In fact, with one duck, Batman not only avoided the pipe, but let the swinger take out one of his buddies. One pair of bolas later, and the swinger was effectively pinned to a post and out of the fight. Of course, that left one, and while Batman couldn't see him, he could hear him, albeit barely. Waiting for just the right moment, he threw his fist back, smacking the crook in the face before he could stab him with a rather nasty looking blade. With them all out of the fight, Batman grabbed the one tied to the pole by his collar, getting in his face.

"Who set this up?" Batman demanded, sounding calm yet having an authority and malice to his voice that made the criminal want to wet himself.

"I-It was all our idea!" the crook insisted. "We were gonna-"

"Lie to me again, and you'll find yourself in Gotham General Hospital, before the GCPD that is," Batman threatened. "Now, who set this up?"

"I-I-I can't!" the goon cried. "He'll kill me if I talk! I-"

Batman barely heard it coming over the shrieking ramblings of the scared mobster. With just a fraction of a second to spare, the Dark Knight raked the blades of his gauntlet across the cords keeping the man pinned and hauled him down with him, just barely ducking the slash that cut the pole down to size. Shoving the man one way, Batman rolled the other as his new opponent swung both her claws in the air, cutting through his cape with ease. The Caped Crusader backed off, getting a good look at his blonde foe as she flicked her tongue, assuming a stance that would normally cause the ordinary person extreme pain, unless they were an experienced contortionist...which she was. It kept her steel claws and strong heels ready for strikes that Batman knew from past experience could leave marks in solid stone and bust through walls.

"Wh-wh-what is THAT?!" the crook demanded, scrambling away.

"Copperhead," Batman replied as his opponent began to circle him, waiting for an opening. "femme fatale assassin for hire."

"I swear to God, I didn't know she was here!" the man screamed.

"She's not here just for me," Batman went on. "She's here to keep you quiet."

With a feral yell, Copperhead flipped forward, aiming her heels at Batman's head in a scissor swipe. The Dark Knight barely had enough time to get his arms up, blocking the motion, then had to step back fast as a pair of claws slashed down for his head, instead catching floor. With a click of her tongue, Copperhead spun on her hands, sending a flurry of kicks at Batman, who managed to block them all before grabbing hold of Copperhead's ankle and forcing her into the nearby crate. Copperhead cried out in pain, kicking the crate apart in frustration.

_That should keep her from kicking quite as fast as she could,_ Bruce concluded, reaching into his utility belt. _Now for those claws._

Copperhead hissed as she hurled the jagged pieces of the wooden crate at Batman like spears. With little time, the Caped Crusader managed to leap and spin around the planks while also tossing a pair of tiny capsules at Copperhead's claws. They imploded on contact with the sharpened metal claws, coating her hands in an adhesive goo. Within moments, they were so covered in the hardening foam that even smashing them against the floor to break free became an exercise in futility. Copperhead growled in extreme frustration as her most effective weapons were left harmless, but a cruel smirk soon made itself present as she flicked her tongue across her fangs. Unfortunately for her, Batman recognized this motion and what it meant, as he'd been on the receiving end before: Her fangs were laced with toxins that would confuse and disorient at best, or outright kill at worst. And so, as she leaped for the Dark Knight, fangs bared, rather than try to block her move, he instead threw his feet out from under himself, kicking her in the face and forcing her into another crate before he landed on his hands, springing back up with ease. However, he knew that his opponent was probably far from out of the fight, so he reached down to his boot, pressing a button otherwise invisible to anyone who didn't already know it was there, which was no one else. Walking over to the man he'd been interrogating when this fight had first broken out, he grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet, just as Copperhead was regaining her bearings.

"Sh-She-She's getting back up!" the goon screeched as Batman simply walked them both over to the elevator shaft and reached to his side, pulling the Batclaw, his trademark grapple-hook. "...That's not gonna do any good!"

"It's not for her," Batman replied as Copperhead roared at the two, dashing toward them with her jaws wide.

Batman was sure at this point, the goon he was keeping held up was ready to soil himself in fear. After all, Copperhead was mere seconds from striking. However, it never came, as before she could reach them, hundreds, if not thousands of bats swarmed the radio tower, attracted to the ultrasonic beacon Batman had activated moments before. As the snake woman found herself under attack by the leathery fiends, Batman aimed his Batclaw upward and fired, letting the hook fly up through the shaft and straight up through the radio tower, then hauling himself and the goon to the top of the tower. He let the poor man down on the floor gently, who by now was almost hyperventilating.

"...D-D-D-Do you think w-we lost her?" he asked, scared out of his wits.

"Possibly," Batman replied, switching off the beacon and setting the Batclaw back on his belt before retrieving a different item from his belt.

"W-What do you mean, p-possibl-AHHH!" the man was cut off as Copperhead suddenly sprung up through the floor, her eyes locked on his neck and her fangs ready for the kill.

Thankfully for the mobster, it never came, as Copperhead soon found herself being shocked by a taser Batman had produced from his utility belt. Within moments, fatigue finally set in as she collapsed unconscious before the goon. Batman sighed, returning the taser to its proper place in his belt before turning his attention back to the goon.

"...Now, about the man who set you up," Batman said, his face showing he was in zero mood for games.

"Okay, okay!" the man cried. "It was Thorne, okay?! He wanted access to Gotham's radio signals! ALL of Gotham's radio signals!"

"One of you were going to tamper with the tower controls." Batman surmised.

"Li'l Joe, red-headed guy back down there!" the man explained, to which Batman walked over to peer down to where they'd ascended from. "...H-Hey! You can't leave me up here with her!"

"She'll be out for several hours at least," Batman assured him before giving him a smirk. "And if not...well, I suppose you could always try to charm your way out."

And with that, Batman dropped down through the elevator shaft, opening his para-cape as he reached the proper floor. Sliding in, he looked around, finding the redhead. Sure enough, it was the goon knocked out by his friend's steel pipe. Shaking his head, the Dark Knight walked over, retrieving a smelling salt from his belt. He reached down to where the redhead lay, looking to wake him up, but soon found himself getting slammed in the head hard, sending him tumbling across the ground. Looking up, trying to ignore the ringing in his ear, he saw him: The big goon he brought down at the start of the fight. Apparently, he didn't stay knocked out for very long. Batman's hand immediately went to his belt, but the goon stomped down on his hand, then brought a knee down on his throat, trying to choke him out.

_Dammit, not here!_ Bruce begged. _Not now! Not to this lowlife! Alfred! Dick! Clark! Someone...!_

Just before Batman felt himself start to lose consciousness, the goon choking him stopped after being hit HARD in the back with a crate. Through his dazed vision, Batman looked up to see the goon try to tackle his new opponent, a man in a brown fedora and trench-coat. However, this man was too fast and too smart, able to use the goon's own size and momentum to send him hurling into a wall. The behemoth of a mobster started to get back up, but the man he was fighting jumped onto him, and then, after a few moments, the goon suddenly went limp, unconscious. Batman groaned, giving his head a small shake as he tried to regain his bearings.

"Easy, friend," Batman's apparent saviour said in a rather deep voice, walking over and helping him up. "You don't appear to have a concussion, but-"

"I'm alright..." Batman insisted. "...Thank you, whoever you are."

The man shrugged. "Just a detective, like yourself. I thought you could use some assistance."

"Right..." Batman replied, looking around for the redhead he'd tried to revive before.

"You know, you shouldn't be trying to deal with these types of scum all on your own," the apparent detective went on as Batman finally spotted the one he was looking for. "From what I've seen, it's taking its toll on you."

"I appreciate the concern, but I work alone," Batman retorted, walking over to Li'l Joe. "That's just how The Batman works."

The detective looked away, sighing. "...Funny. That's not how your father did things."

Batman immediately stopped, then turned to face the detective. "...What did you say?"

"Your father, Thomas Wayne," the detective explained. "He didn't try to deal with his problems alone, regardless of how large or small they appeared. He knew better."

The Dark Knight's eyes narrowed. "I don't know who you think I am, but-"

"I can assure you, Mr. Wayne, that if I were going to spread your secret to anyone, I would have by now," the detective insisted. "But then, you've already told people your secret, and yet you won't let them help you. Not even the boy you claim to be training to assist you."

"Who are you, really?!" Bruce demanded. "And how do you know so much about me?!"

"You may call me John," the detective answered. "And not only do I know much about you, I know even more about The Batman than you do."

"I AM Batman," Bruce said through gritted teeth.

"You weren't always," John shot back, closing the gap between the two. "Nor are you the first. It's time you learned the truth about your father, and about his time as The Batman."

Bruce blinked in surprise, caught off-guard. "...What? My father wasn't Batman. Alright, there was that costume party years ago, and those men who tried to kidnap him, but-"

"There is more than you know, Bruce Wayne," John cut him off. "Your father WAS The Batman, the Dark Knight, for one night. It's time you learned the true nature of your heritage, as a Wayne and as The Batman."

Before Bruce could ask anything more, John raised a hand, making contact with the Dark Knight's temple through his cowl. Suddenly, Bruce felt his whole head rock, and within moments, all the world around him was white.

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** Okay, a few noteworthy things that I need to cover. As pointed out above, Bruce Wayne has been Batman for nearly four years at this point. He's roughly around 30-32, haven't decided exactly. He's met Superman and Wonder Woman and knows who they really are, but there is no Justice League yet. I gave him the middle name Terrance because I wanted to include a reference to Batman Beyond. Dick Grayson, as I said before, is 13 years old, and has been in Bruce's care for almost a year. The version of Copperhead seen here is identical to the one in Arkham Origins, though I decided it best to keep her mute since I don't know whether or not she can speak in the game. The back-story involving Thomas Wayne dressing up as The Batman for a costume party comes from the 1980 three-part mini-series, The Untold Legend of the Batman, though it may have been told elsewhere as well, I'm not 100% sure. However, as you'll soon see, in my version of events, he didn't wear the costume shown there, but rather another costume that should seem familiar to readers. And finally, you can probably already guess who John is, but I'm gonna keep my lips sealed for now since confirming it would just ruin it.

Anyway, that's it for now. Keep your eyes peeled for Chapter 3 coming up soon, as Bruce begins to learn about when his father became The Batman, why, and how he's only just now finding out. Ja né!


	3. Chapter 3

**_DISCLAIMER:_ Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I don't own squat in this story, except for the actual plot, and even then, I take many a cue from other established continuities created for Batman. That said, this exists in its own continuity and should not be considered to be part of any already defined by the comics, television series, or movies.**

* * *

The sole occupant of the room sighed, looking into a closet. There, hanging in the back, was a costume he'd worn to a charity costume ball a month before. It was a grey body suit with black gloves and boots. A black bat emblem adorned the chest, a red circle behind it. A long black cape with a matching cowl hung behind the suit, looking very much like a demonic bat with the red lens where his eyes would peer out.

The Batman, Thomas Wayne had named him. His son was immediately in awe of it. The people at the ball thought it was the most miraculous thing they'd ever seen. Some said he paid to have it made, but in truth, he'd only paid for the materials. For the sake of earning money for charity, he created it himself.

Then THEY showed up: Common thugs, looking for a doctor. Their boss, a notorious bank robber named Lew Moxon, had been shot and needed a doctor to remove the bullet. Of course, having earned his Ph. D long ago, Thomas was the prime choice. It was no easy task, but he managed it...AFTER he'd knocked out the thugs holding him at gun-point with a chair. After all, he knew Moxon would never let him live after extracting the bullet. And as he finished removing the bullet, something he felt compelled to do as a doctor, he called for the police. A few days later, he personally testified in court as to what had happened, and Moxon was put away.

Thomas scratched his chin, having neglected to shave for a few days. Seeing Moxon off to prison should've been the end of it...but it wasn't. In the weeks since, he'd been reading the paper a lot more, paying closer attention to the criminal element of Gotham City. As it turned out, Gotham had a much bigger problem than bank robbers. Some of the crooks were far more dangerous, and had far more pull in Gotham. But what made it worse was the Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, Gillian Loeb. It was becoming clear that Loeb was on the take from Carmine Falcone, a mob boss who was looking to control practically most of Gotham. Any criminals even remotely connected to Falcone were released the morning after arrest, regardless of their crime.

But even then, there was still worse, and Thomas knew it, especially after what he'd read in the paper this morning. An insane killer, Victor Zsasz. A man so sick, he actually carved tally marks on himself for every person he killed, and he had many. Even Falcone's men tried to avoid this man. He was practically a super-villain, like the old ones that battled against the superheroes of old, the Justice Society of America.

And it was with that thought while looking at that costume that something in Thomas snapped. Sure, many of these heroes had super-powers, but some were little more than a costume, a gimmick, and the intelligence and physique to keep up with their super-powered partners. Thomas, who was a gifted surgeon, well-versed in how the human body worked, had near-limitless funds as the inheritor of the Wayne Family Fortune, and was quite the athlete in high school and college, could take all these things and use them against the criminal element. And this costume that hung before him, this dark and frightening costume, was the final piece of the puzzle in terms of making it all work.

He looked to his pocket-watch, though he immediately wondered why, as if he had a small time-frame to work with. His wife and their son were on a trip to his sister-in-law's, and wouldn't be home for a few days. Likewise, Alfred would be away for most of the following night, and wouldn't be back until that morning. With that thought in mind, and revisiting his previous thoughts, he reached out for the costume, hanging in the closet, as if reaching for what could be his destiny...

* * *

"Gah!" Bruce yelled, shoving John off him and backing against a stone pillar. "...What...what was that?!"

"You were experiencing Thomas Wayne's memories," John explained calmly. "Memories he gave to me to share with you, should the need ever arise."

"What are you, really?" Batman demanded, panting hard.

"Someone who has visited many heroes throughout the world, and on that night, your father was one of them," John answered.

The Dark Knight glared at John inquisitively. "...Superman and Wonder Woman?"

"I haven't needed to, yet," John replied, shaking his head.

"Are you supposed to be our psychiatrist or something?" Batman suggested sarcastically.

John's eyes narrowed. "...Bruce, I want to help you."

"Why?" Batman asked. "Why do you care what I do?"

John stepped forward, his face relaxing and his shoulders slumping. "...Because your father requested it."

Bruce looked John in his eyes. This man, assuming he WAS a man, had the ability to enter his mind. He knew his identity, he knew where he lived, where he operated out of, who his allies were, and he apparently knew things about his father that he had never dreamed were possible. Everything in the world's greatest detective's mind was telling him this person couldn't be trusted...And yet, something in his eyes, in his voice, and in his body language told him that this man wasn't a threat. Rather, he seemed almost...sad to be doing this. As if bringing up these memories brought him pain for some reason. And something in Bruce felt compelled to see them through, to know the truth. And truth be told, there was something about them he was curious about.

"...So, my father decided to become Batman to deal with Zsasz," Batman said, finally breaking the silence. "I've tangled with Zsasz a few times, and I don't recall him ever mentioning there being a Batman before me."

"Again, there's more that you are unfamiliar with," John retorted, offering his hand.

Batman's eyes narrowed, but he simply sighed and said, "...Alright, what happens next?"

John didn't answer, instead placing his hand to the side of Batman's head. Once again, Bruce's mind blanked out, and within moments, the memories began to play again...

* * *

Thomas peered out at the city spreading out before him as he stood atop a rooftop in The Narrows, the slums of Gotham, where Zsasz had been most frequently spotted. His cape flowed in what he was sure was the chilling wind. Thankfully, he'd made his costume when it was still winter, and had insulated it so the cold wouldn't be an issue, so the night air of early spring Gotham wasn't a problem at all. But that wasn't the only advantage the suit was giving him. During his day of planning and preparing for this night, Thomas had swapped out the cowl's red lens, once just decoration, for something he'd been looking over, a creation of one of the new recruits to WayneTech. It provided him with a special zoom feature that was operated by a set of controls on a new belt he'd equipped to the suit. The red belt also had some other items he'd decided to include, just in case Zsasz proved to be more than he could handle.

As Batman made his way across the rooftops, looking for signs of activity from Zsasz or any other criminals, it was quickly occurring to him that perhaps rooftop running wasn't the best means of getting around. If he DID decide to make this a running theme for his nights, he'd need some mode of transportation, like a motorcycle or a car of some sort.

"_**HELP!**_"

Batman stopped as he heard the scream coming from a nearby alley. Running to it, he saw the source: Middle-aged woman and two armed muggers, one male and one female. It looked like they were armed with short knives. Given the insulation to his suit, Thomas felt confidant he'd be safe from wild swipes, but if they got in too close for stabs, that could be a problem. Still, he couldn't just leave this situation.

Manoeuvring carefully and quietly along the fire escape, he found himself just a few feet over the male mugger. Perfect. He would take him down first, which would scare the female mugger off. As the 20-something woman in leather started threatening the victim louder, Batman dropped down from the fire escape and hit the male mugger in just the right pressure point to disable him. His partner turned to face them, her eyes wide at the dark figure hovering over her fallen comrade.

"Stay back!" she yelled, grabbing the middle-aged woman and holding her knife to her throat. "I'm warning you, freak! Stay the hell away from me, or she loses her head!"

_No!_ Thomas thought. Stupid! I should've gone for the mugger closest to the victim! How could I make such an obvious mistake?!

Cursing himself, Batman thought to his belt. He'd placed some smoke pellets he'd 'borrowed' from Alfred, keepsakes of his time in the war, in his belt, in case he might need them. He was sure a well-placed smoke pellet to the face would stun and disorient the mugger just enough to get her to back off. The only question was, could Batman reach the pellet and throw it in her face fast enough, or was the middle-aged woman, pleading for her life, about to find herself without a head. Thomas wasn't sure, but he did know this much: The effect he was having on the mugger's fear right now was making it clear that, if he didn't do SOMETHING, that woman was going to die, and the only accomplishment he'd have made this night was getting some poor woman killed in an alley because he'd been stupid...

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** So, let's get some details out of the way. First off, just to correct myself from last chapter, apparently Thomas Wayne being the first Batman has actually been referred to in other stories besides The Untold Legend of the Batman, namely in a story that is incidentally called The First Batman, a Silver Age story that detailed events very similar to those in TULB, which I loosely adapted for this fic. It was also elaborated on further in an episode of Batman: The Brave and the Bold, which I did not watch for reasons that kind of elude me now. lol

Second, the suit he's wearing in this fic is, in fact, the Flashpoint Batman costume, minus the guns and any other lethal weapons he had, and with a few tweaks here and there. Obviously, it's nowhere near as high-tech as Bruce's Bat-suit, but I felt the need to give it some uses to make Thomas seem at least a slightly credible superhero for his one-night excursion.

Finally, this IS the same Victor Zsasz as the one Bruce deals with on occasion in the present. The circumstances of why he nor anyone else ever mentions another Batman before him are explained, trust me.

Anyway, I hope that clears up any confusion or questions you might have. If there's anything else, simply comment on it, and I'll do my best to explain it, unless it's something I'm deliberately keeping you in the dark on, in which case it'll be revealed in later chapters. Check in next time to see if Thomas manages to save the woman from the mugger, or if his one night as Batman will end in tragedy. Ja né!


	4. Chapter 4

**_DISCLAIMER:_ Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I don't own squat in this story, except for the actual plot, and even then, I take many a cue from other established continuities created for Batman. That said, this exists in its own continuity and should not be considered to be part of any already defined by the comics, television series, or movies.**

* * *

Thomas looked the situation over in his mind. If he was too slow grabbing the smoke pellet and throwing it into the mugger's face, the terrified middle-aged woman was going to die, and how could he, as a doctor, live with that? If he offered to surrender, he could die, and if people found out he was a costumed vigilante, it could cost his family their fortune, and his wife and child could be thrown into the streets with nowhere to go. And his indecisiveness was only making it more likely that the mugger was going to make the kill. At this point, horrifying as it was, it seemed his only chance was the smoke pellet.

"GAH!" Just as Batman was going to reach for the smoke pellet, the mugger was caught in the back of the head, dropping the knife and letting her captive free. As she turned to face the figure that struck her, The Batman moved as swiftly as he could, jabbing her neck with two fingers. The mugger let out a soft moan before losing consciousness, Batman catching her before she hit the pavement.

"Oh God!" the middle-aged woman cried a few feet away. "She was going to kill me!"

"It's alright," the figure in the shadows said, walking over to her. "You're safe now. I would suggest going home and trying to forget all this."

The woman simply nodded shakily, letting loose a few rapid-fire thank-you's before dashing off. Placing the mugger gently on the ground, Batman turned to the man in the shadows, taking note of his white fedora and trench-coat. The man turned to face him, looking him in the eye, and yet, it felt more to Thomas like the man was staring into his soul.

"...Your first night on the job?" the man asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Batman admitted. "Thank you."

"I was simply doing what you would do in my place, correct?" the man replied with a grin.

Batman smirked for a moment, feeling at ease somehow, before turning serious again. "...I suppose so...I'm looking for someone. A murderer."

"Victor Zsasz?" the man suggested.

Thomas' eyes widened. "How did you-?"

"My little secret," the man answered. "In addition, he HAS been spotted several times in The Narrows. I've actually been in the process of investigating him myself, trying to find a pattern in his killings."

"And?" Batman inquired.

The man shook his head. "Nothing so far. None of the victims have any ties to each other, aside from living in this city. It's not even The Narrows, as he's killed outside of here as well."

Batman folded his arms. "Come to think of it, one of his earliest reported murders took place in Gotham Museum during a tour. Quite the gathering of people...Wait..."

The man tilted his head slightly. "What?"

"Something just occurred to me," Batman went on, remembering the reports he'd read in the paper. "Even his killings here, in The Narrows, weren't exactly in the most dark and secluded areas. In the middle of a street, in someone's apartment, in the stall of a convenience store..."

"Are you suggesting that the link isn't the individuals, but rather the execution?" the man surmised.

"Zsasz has reportedly been carving lines in his body for every one of his kills," Batman explained, "meaning he takes value in each one. So he can't simply murder ANYONE, there has to be something special to the kill. So he's going after kills that are increasingly difficult to pull off."

"Still, that raises some questions," the man pointed out, stroking his chin. "In all of these cases, how is he able to perform the deed without anyone noticing until it's too late...Unless..."

"Have an idea?" Batman asked.

The man nodded. "Lancaster Black, former British assassin, recently moved to America. Before that, he was a game hunter. Has a way of getting people to do what he needs them to, see what he needs them to, and most importantly, remember what he needs them to."

"Has a lot of influence, does he?" Batman suggested.

"Something like that," the man remarked, turning away. "Listen, I know you want to stop Zsasz, but if he IS with Black, you're in over your head, especially if you go in alone."

Batman sighed, thinking it over. _What if this man is right? Look at how I almost botched stopping a mugging. Now I'm going up against two murderers that are turning Gotham's streets red? Maybe I should just return to Wayne Manor, put this costume away, and forget all of this...But then, if I don't, does this man plan to do it alone? Can I walk away and let him deal with this by himself?_

"...I appreciate your concern, but-" Batman started to say.

"But your mind is made up, and you won't allow me to go alone, correct?" the man guessed, surprising Thomas. "...Alright then. We take them together, Mister...?"

"I'm The Batman." Thomas replied confidently. "And you are?"

The man simply nodded with a smile. "Just a detective that's passing through. Call me John."

* * *

"YAH!"

Bruce blinked hard as he was brought out of his trance. Giving his head a quick shake, he watched as John backed off as an all-too-familiar boy dressed in a red and green kevlar suit with a black and yellow cape struck out at him with a pair of Eskrima sticks. Despite dodging the attacks at a remarkable speed, John was still only barely keeping ahead of the boy, who was attacking with great ferocity. Clearly, his training was making him lighter on his feet all the time.

"Robin, stand down!" Batman ordered.

Robin stopped, glancing back. "You're kidding, right?!"

"He's not an enemy," the Dark Knight insisted. "STAND. DOWN."

Robin looked back to John, then back to Batman, at last giving a sigh and setting his sticks back on the utility belt, while Batman approached him. "Better. Now, what are you doing out here? You're supposed to be training, and I ordered you not to go into the field in costume yet."

"I know, but you weren't answering the comm for 30 minutes!" Dick wailed. "We were worried, so I...um, kinda borrowed the Batpod and came to see what was going on, and then I saw this guy doing something weird and you looking like you were in some kinda trance."

"You needn't be concerned, young Grayson," John assured the Boy Wonder. "I was merely showing him memories of the first Batman."

"...The first Batman?" Robin inquired, utterly confused. "Wait, how do you know my name? Batman, is he a friend of yours or something?"

Batman sighed. "Yes, he's a friend...Robin, I need you to search a red-headed goon nearby. He should have some sort of equipment used for hacking the radio tower's systems. Find it."

Robin looked around at the unconscious bodies of the gangsters nearby, spotting the redhead last. "...Okay, got it."

"And when you're done, there should still be a man on the top floor with Copperhead," Batman went on. "She's unconscious for now, but you should probably get him away from her, just in case."

"Roger!" Robin acknowledged, jogging over to where Li'l Joe lied.

John watched Robin leave, then smirked at Batman. "You don't seem the type to label people as friends so quickly."

"I'm not," Batman answered, eyes narrowed, "but it was the quickest way to get rid of him."

"Of course," John noted. "Now, where were we?"

"You and my father were about to track down Zsasz and this Mr. Black," Batman responded. "...Lancaster Black. I can honestly say I've never heard of him before."

John nodded, looking remorseful all of a sudden. "...There's a reason for that."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what comes next?" the Dark Knight asked.

"Only one way to know for sure," John pointed out, holding up a hand.

Bruce sighed, letting John make contact. The last thing he saw was Robin watching from a distance, seeming both concerned and horribly left out, before all went white, and the memories began to play again...

* * *

Thomas let out an annoyed grunt, smacking his flash-light until it came on, illuminating the otherwise pitch-black store. "Next time, I bring night-vision lens for my mask."

The two took a look around the abandoned game-hunter store, long since bereft of power. It seemed like an obvious place for the two to be hiding, considering their _modus operandi _thus far. Still, Thomas couldn't help but wonder, in such an obvious hiding place, how the GCPD couldn't possibly find them here. Was it just because it was so conspicuous that they couldn't possibly see them trying to hide there? Or did they honestly just not put it together yet? Thomas shook his head, hoping for the sake of Gotham's finest that it was the former case, and not the latter.

Batman looked over at the detective accompanying him, supposedly named John. Something about him didn't seem quite normal. First off, his name seemed phony. Plus, it felt like he was one step ahead of him and his thoughts. But most odd, he didn't seem to have any trouble seeing through the shadows of the store, while Batman required his flash-light. Everything in his head was telling him to be suspicious of this man, and yet something about him gave off the aura that he was there to help.

Searching the actual store section of the building, the two found nothing, meaning that if these two were hiding out here, any evidence of their presence had to be in the loading dock or the upstairs offices. With a nod to each other, the two split up, Batman making his way to the loading dock. Slowly and carefully, Batman opened the door to the loading dock and slipped in, confronted by dozens of empty wooden pallets, rising up to the ceiling like pillars. Making his way around them slowly, careful not to knock them over and cause what would essentially be a cave-in, Batman eventually found an iron chest in a corner of the room, locked shut with a large steel padlock.

_What have we got here?_ Thomas wondered as he knelt down and dug out his lock-pick, fiddling with the padlock until he managed to get it open. Lifting the lid to the chest, The Batman found his answer: At least a couple dozen knives, daggers, cleavers, even short swords, all lined up nicely inside. Some looked well-polished, practically new, while others were stained by what Thomas could only guess was blood.

_Got you now, Mr. Zsasz,_ Thomas thought with a smirk.

He barely heard them, really. In fact, they were being pushed so gently that they hardly made a sound. If Thomas hadn't seen the stack of pallets in the reflection of one rather large clever, he might never have known in time they were being pushed to topple onto him. As such, The Batman barely managed to roll out of the way as the pallets came crashing down where he'd just been kneeling. Coming to a halt, Batman looked up to see the one responsible: A large bald man, wearing the tattered remains of a prison uniform and large chains connecting his wrists and neck. Cut into his skin were many, many lines, and only by his research had Thomas known what they meant: One cut for each victim.

"Little bat comes to my place of business?" Zsasz asked, sounding clearly deranged as he drew a cleaver from his iron chest. "Black rodent sneaks through my things? Flying rat will have the honour of being my next mark!"

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** Decided to add the interlude with Robin kinda last minute. It just kinda occurred to me that Batman was in a trance where he'd be unable to answer the comm if, say, Alfred and Dick were trying to call him and see what the hell was going on. Plus, gets him in on a little bit of the fun.

...Also, bit of a confession for anyone who doesn't know, I was actually in a loading dock cave-in once. They were boxes of t-shirts, mind you, not wooden pallets. I wasn't hurt (aside from my ego, lol), just pinned down and unable to escape without help. Almost gave my supervisor a heart attack. True story.

Finally, if you know your DC characters, you probably know who Lancaster Black is. :) Either way, the story comes to a climax next chapter as The Batman and John battle Zsasz and Black, and the ultimate answer to why Bruce never knew that his father was the Caped Crusader is revealed. Ja né!


	5. Chapter 5

**_DISCLAIMER:_ Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I don't own squat in this story, except for the actual plot, and even then, I take many a cue from other established continuities created for Batman. That said, this exists in its own continuity and should not be considered to be part of any already defined by the comics, television series, or movies.**

* * *

Bruce blinked as the memories stopped for a moment. "...Wait, what happened next?"

"I apologise," John said, "but I thought it might be best to switch to my perspective for a moment. It allows for what happens next to make more sense."

Batman looked over John's shoulder. Robin had already retrieved the equipment from Li'l Joe, and brought both the man upstairs and Copperhead down, taking care to tie them both up separately. He simply gave Batman a shrug, having heard everything, and made a sort of 'What can you do?' look. The Dark Knight had to fight the urge to roll his eyes, looking back to John.

"Alright, just get on with it," Batman groaned, his voice making it clear how annoyed he was.

"Gladly," John replied, placing his hand back on Batman's temple, feeding his own memories of that night into the Caped Crusader's mind...

* * *

John spun around in the hallway upstairs, looking back to the staircase as he heard the loud crashing. Immediately aware of the trap that had just been sprung, he made his way to the top of the stairs. Before he could make his way down the staircase, however, he found himself knocked through a wall, rather painfully at that, into one of the upstairs rooms. John groaned as he shook the cobwebs from his brain, his fedora falling off, before looking up and around the room. The walls were covered with newspaper-clippings, calendars, and kill-sheets, all pinned neatly to them.

"Like what you see, mate?"

John managed to get to his feet, albeit shakily, and laid eyes on the man standing in the large hole in the wall: A middle-aged man, plenty of grey in his hair, lines under his green eyes, wearing a black leather coat with a Union Jack patch on the left breast, tattered grey jeans, brown dress shoes, and smoking a cigarette. The man was smirking cockily at John as he glared back at him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the lit tip of his cigarette.

"Lancaster Black, I presume?" John inquired.

"In the flesh, Yank," Lancaster said, putting out his cigarette in the wall. "...Oh wait, my bad. You're not from this country, are you?"

John's eyes narrowed. "So, the rumours are true: You ARE a telepath."

"Right you are, among other things," Black answered, cleaning his ear with his pinky as John suddenly felt a wave of energy knock him against a wall. "...Oh, don't worry your little head off, mate. I might be able to tell you ain't from around 'ere, but everything else is pretty well-hidden from me...Unlike the bloke downstairs, that is. 'The Batman'? Poor Tommy-boy's a joke, and he knows it."

John grit his teeth as Lancaster held him in place with his telekinesis, stepping forward. "Dressin' up like some bloody superhero...Y'know, my kid back at home adores 'em? Superheroes, that is. Bloody idiots, all of 'em, AND me boy. They all gotta learn, superheroes are a cliché nowadays, simple and clean, and they got no place in this world anymore. Them JSA buggers learned it years ago, and lot like Wayne downstairs would do right to learn it too."

"Do you know what else has become clichéd?" John asked, eyes shut.

Lancaster scoffed. "What's that, now?"

John's eyes slowly opened, glowing red as he smiled confidently. "Criminals that monologue too much!"

With that, a pair of beams suddenly shot out of John's eyes, catching Lancaster in the shoulder and sending him tumbling across the ground. The detective quickly found himself free from Black's telekinetic hold, and quickly uppercut the Brit back out into the hall as he felt him start to charge up another attack, scooping up his fedora along the way. Black growled as he got back to his feet, pulling a crowbar from his coat and clutching it hard in both hands.

"Bloody hell!" Lancaster yelled. "You're one of them, aren't you?!"

"You're going to wish I was!" John shouted back, running forward and catching the swung crowbar before levelling Black with a flying roundhouse kick to the face, knocking him into the wall. John landed feet-first on the floor, finishing his spin and placing his fedora back on his head, ever so smoothly, as Black slumped to the ground.

"AHH!"

John's eyes shot open as he heard the scream downstairs. Leaping over the banister near the stairwell, John landed perfectly on the street-level floor, then kicked the door to the loading dock open. Inside, Thomas was trying his best to keep his distance from Victor Zsasz while also keeping a hand firmly held to his side, meaning Zsasz had likely gotten a hit in with the very sharp-looking cleaver in his hand.

Having busted down the door, however, John now had Zsasz' attention, the murdering sociopath charging him with the cleaver. Before he could strike, John managed to catch Zsasz' forearm and keep him from bringing his cleaver down on his head, although his fedora managed to receive a small cut in it. Keeping a firm grip on Zsasz' arm with both hands, John threw his feet forward and caught the killer in the chest, letting go and sending him crashing into a pile of wooden pallets.

"Batman, are you alright?!" John demanded.

"...Not too bad," Thomas replied, removing his hand to reveal the small cut. "Suit took most of it. Thank God I made it thick..."

John nodded. "Black's upstairs. We should restrain both of them and call the pol-ARGH!"

John let out a horrible yell as he found himself slammed down into the pallets with a harsh telekinetic wave, his face grinding into the wood. He heard a familiar voice laugh at him from behind, and he growled as he tried to get back up, only to be shoved back down by another, harsher wave. He heard a loud smack from a crowbar before Batman fell to the ground.

"Thought that was all there was to me, mate?!" Lancaster yelled from behind, his laughter ending and being replaced with a raging growl in his voice. "Monologue too much, aye?! Let's see how you like my monologin' when I bring every dagger in Zsasz' little box o' toys down on your brain!"

John could do nothing, and could see nothing, but he could hear. He could hear as a nearby chest was knocked over, the cutlery filling it being levitated. At this point, the only way John was going to see to himself and Thomas leaving this store alive was to do something drastic. Government agreement or not, he had to reveal himself now, or he and Thomas were going to die. And just as he was about to, he heard a sound, as if something were being thrown through the air, then sticking into something meaty behind him. Then, a loud screech as everything in the room was tossed around for a bit, before all went completely white...

* * *

"Ugh!" Bruce groaned, being violently brought out of the memories being replayed. "What-?!"

"Forgive me," John cut in, also looking a bit worse for wear. "My memories for the next few minutes are missing."

"What happened?" Robin asked, jogging over to the two.

"Lancaster Black sent out a psychic blast of energy at that moment in my memories," John explained. "It affected all of us."

"So where do they pick up from?" Batman demanded.

"I can show you, but..." John hesitated, his hand retracted. "...Batman, I'm only going to warn you once: You were right. You're not going to like what you see next."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "...Hell of a time to tell me...I've seen this much. I HAVE to know how it ends."

John closed his eyes, and with a small nod, held up his hand, returning it to Batman's temple...

* * *

"...omas...Thomas...! Thomas, wake up!"

Thomas moaned as he felt the world come back to him. He was sitting propped against a wall in the loading dock, broken pallets at his side, and the detective, John, kneeling next to him. Looking to his side, he saw his wound had somehow healed itself, though he could've sworn he saw John pocket some kind of device as he was waking up.

"...What..." Thomas started to say, slowly getting to his feet with John's aid. "...What happened?"

"There was a wave of psychic energy, knocked us all out," John explained.

Thomas blinked. "Psychic ener-...Black. Lancaster Black. He was going to kill you. What happened to him?"

John looked away, suddenly seeming quite melancholy. Thomas wanted to ask again, but looked ahead, seeing his answer. There, laying in the doorway to the loading dock, was Lancaster Black, a single knife laying by his side, dripping with blood...the knife Thomas had thrown when he saw Black about to murder John. The knife he had thrown, aiming for Black's shoulder, trying to disable him, but having just been grazed in the side of the head with a crowbar, his aim was horribly off, and struck him in the chest...

"...No..." Thomas stammered, his eyes wide. "...No! No, I didn't...! I didn't mean to...!"

"It's alright," John said, putting a hand to Thomas' shoulder, "he's alive, simply comatose. I managed to save him, but I can't wake him from his coma."

"No, dammit!" Thomas cried, slapping John's hand away. "I can't have put him in a coma! I'm supposed to be a doctor! I took an oath!"

"It was an accident, Thomas!" John insisted, raising his voice and grabbing The Batman by the shoulders. "You weren't trying to! At any rate, he would have killed us!"

"And that makes it alright?!" Batman demanded, pulling off his mask to show the tears forming in his eyes. "That makes it okay?!"

"No!" John yelled back. "But it also doesn't make you a murderer!"

"**_I COULD'VE KILLED HIM!_**" Thomas argued. "I almost took a life! As it is, he may never wake anyway! How does that make me better than-...Zsasz! Where's Zsasz?!"

"He's alive," John said quickly, seeing where this train of thought was going and motioning to where Zsasz sat, propped against another wall. "He'll be alright...except..."

"Except what?!" Thomas shouted.

John sighed, clenching a fist. "...Black's psychic blast. It was a backlash effect from...As far as I can tell, we're missing a few minutes worth of memories. Possibly just from when we were knocked out. Zsasz, however, seems to be missing the past few weeks."

Thomas paled. "...How is that possible?"

"Black was a telepath," John explained. "He could enter people's minds, read their thoughts, even take memories away. That's how Zsasz was completing his murders. They may have been people Black wanted dead. I'll have to recheck his information upstairs."

"...A telepath..." Thomas muttered before looking into John's eyes. "...You're one too, aren't you? It's how you knew who I was looking for, how you stayed one step ahead of me, how you knew who I was and where to find me."

John didn't say anything, but his face told the story. "Can Zsasz' memories be restored?"

"No," John responded. "Not with Black in his current condition."

Thomas looked away, tears streaming down his face now, as he looked to the mask clenched in his fist. One night. That's all it took. One night on the job. He'd gone in like some over-excited child playing with a new toy. In the process, how many times had he nearly gotten someone, be it an old woman killed, a criminal, John, or himself killed? And now he'd put a man in a coma. A coma that he might not ever wake from. The first oath of a doctor is to do no harm, and because of his mistake...True, that man was a murderer himself, but that didn't change the facts. And the fact is, there was no way Thomas could ever face his wife Martha, his son Bruce, or any of the people he worked with knowing this. There was no way to live with this knowledge. He'd eventually crack and turn himself in to the police, the resulting trial could leave his wife and son penniless and without a roof over their heads, and how could he possibly do that to them?

"...But then, there is one other option, isn't there?" John asked, sounding horribly depressed.

"...John...?" Thomas questioned, looking over to the detective, who merely glanced back, and in that moment it became clear what John was suggesting.

"I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would never do this," John said. "But then, one of us is going to walk away from tonight with a guilty conscience. The question is, which of us can live with their sin?"

"...I get the feeling that'd be you," Thomas replied.

John nodded. "...I'll need you to remain calm. I cannot risk making any mistakes."

Thomas sighed as John raised his hands to meet his temples. "...Wait! Wait...Before that..."

John looked to him questioningly, waiting for Thomas to continue. "...My son. When he first saw this...this costume...The Batman. He seemed in awe, almost enthralled by it. If he ever decides to become a hero, please, tell him what happened here. He's free to make his own decisions, of course, but above all, let him know that he cannot do this alone...I couldn't possibly have done this alone tonight."

"Nor could I have," John replied, though in truth, he didn't really know that, nor did he want to know. "...Alright, I promise..."

Thomas nodded slowly, watching as John reached up to his temples. He took a calm, deep breath, and felt a cool sensation run over his mind before he entered a sort of slumber...

* * *

Bruce had promised himself years ago that he would never shed another tear in memory of his parents. He'd cried himself out the night they died, and shedding any tears after the fact would mean nothing in the long run of things...And while, as the memories stopped, he was able to keep that promise, there was nothing he could do as his lip still quivered, as someone far weaker-willed's lip would if they were crying.

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** ...Ooookay, let's get some stuff outta the way super-quick. First off, yes, in the original idea I had formed, Thomas was supposed to kill Black, albeit by accident. I changed it because I didn't want to make him a killer, be it by accident or not. Granted, Flashpoint had him kill people, but just because I put him in the Flashpoint costume doesn't mean I can automatically get away with that. Besides, why kill off a character I can potentially use later, am I right?

Second, and I probably should've made this clearer, regarding Thomas' fear of his wife and son getting thrown out onto the streets. As I've noted before, the JLA DID exist in this continuity, but, much like in the back-story for New Frontier, were forced into disbandment, which Black alludes to in his monologue. Now, my version of the JLA obviously did not include the Trinity (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman), and it isn't until those three show up that the government starts trusting in costumed heroes again. So, there you go.

Third, and I feel as though I HAVE made this clear, but just in case I haven't, Thomas does not make the deal with John to have his memories taken to save himself. It's to save his wife and his son. So, if anyone is planning to accuse me of pulling a Mephisto here, that's not exactly what happened. You can make your own call if he was right or not, that's fine, but it's not the same as Spider-man's little deal with the devil...Yeah, I'm still bitter, what of it? lol

Finally, I'm aware that with this chapter, anyone with any knowledge of the DC Universe outside of Batman should know who John really is by this point. Also, yes, his costume and fighting style here is an homage to Kamen Rider Skull, leave me alone. :P

Anyway, that's it for this chapter. Next one will be the fall-out of everything that happened, and Batman making his choice regarding Robin's status as his partner. Ja né!


	6. Chapter 6

**_DISCLAIMER:_ Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I don't own squat in this story, except for the actual plot, and even then, I take many a cue from other established continuities created for Batman. That said, this exists in its own continuity and should not be considered to be part of any already defined by the comics, television series, or movies.**

And hey, since this is the last chapter...

**_REVIEW REPLIES:_ N. Harmonik - **Honest to God, I did not mean to make a Simpsons reference in Chapter 4. lol**  
AJCrane - **I MIGHT decide to do more with the idea of Thomas as Batman, but for now, this was the only time.**  
FlightfootKeyseeker - **The Untold Legend of the Batman #2...And yes, as people have probably gathered, I had that book and cassette as a child. lol**  
Todd-The-Human - **That WAS kinda the idea when I was writing the fight scene with Copperhead, just trying to visualise one way that boss fight COULD go.**  
ydfhnxy - **This story takes place in its own continuity that takes cues from various movies, tv shows, and comics. For example, a lot of plot elements are borrowed from The Untold Legend of the Batman, Robin's costume is more or less the one he wore in the Young Justice TV show, Bruce's costume is his New 52 attire, but with a VERY dark blue instead of black, and Thomas' costume is his Flashpoint costume, minus any guns or the like. As for how many chapters, this is the last one.**  
**

Finally, just a note, I was listening to Pay Your Respects from the Arkham City OST while I was writing this first half of this scene, and the extended cut of the Batman TAS theme for the second. Just to set the tone. :)

* * *

Batman looked up at the stars from the roof of Wayne Tower. He and John and Robin had decided it best to take their conversation there, since the police were on their way to the radio tower. On top of that, Bruce just wanted to go back to Wayne Tower, the tower his father's hard work and sacrifice built, to see if he could connect in any way to him now. How The Dark Knight wished his father could be there, even for a moment, so he could ask him about all he'd seen. Even after witnessing Thomas Wayne's memories of the night he'd been Batman, he still felt the need to speak with him. And yet, for the moment, there was nothing. The only person he could speak to was the detective calling himself John. Thankfully, he had more than enough questions for him, too.

"...Well then," John said, breaking the silence, "I suppose we should get the obvious questions out of the way."

Batman looked to the detective, eyes narrowed. "You're not human, are you?"

"It is difficult to make that any clearer, in particular given what you've seen," John replied with a nod.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you were some sort of alien, like Superman," Batman continued.

"A little closer to Earth than where he's from," John answered, Robin's jaw threatening to hit the floor. "But yes, I am an alien."

"So, why the deceit?" Batman inquired. "After all, I HAVE met aliens before."

"It's not by my choice," John responded. "I am barred from revealing my true form while doing my work here."

"The government?" Batman asked, getting a look of surprise from John. "I saw into your memories, remember? You were contemplating revealing your true form and powers that night, but before you could, my father acted."

John looked away, seemingly out of shame. "I...regret that. Deeply. If I had simply fought back with all I had, Thomas would never have needed to throw that knife, and Lancaster Black would not be in a coma..."

Batman scoffed, turning to walk away. "...We all have things we regret. Besides, the two of you decided it was best that you lived with those sins. Who am I to disagree?"

"Batman," John called over, the Dark Knight stopping in his tracks. "...I hope that, if you've learned anything from what I showed you, it's that your father would never want you to do this alone. He would want you to have help."

"Is THAT what this has been all about?" Robin demanded. "You weren't sure you wanted me out in the field with you? After all my training-"

"It's not that I didn't believe you could do the job, Dick," Bruce interjected quickly. "But I...I wasn't sure I could drag you into this life. I wasn't sure if I was ready to do this to another child."

Robin blinked. "Whoa, 'another child'? Who was the first one?"

Batman sighed, looking back up to the stars. "...Myself...I didn't have a normal childhood, Dick. Not after my parents were murdered. I became consumed with my desire to become a force against crime and evil. I let myself become vengeance. By all rights, the night my parents died, a part of me died, too. And I couldn't live with myself if I...did the same to you..."

There was silence after that. For what seemed like an eternity, no one said anything. What could they say, after all? The Batman, The Dark Knight, had just spilled his guts on the one thing he was most afraid of nowadays. How could someone respond to that? Luckily, after a while, the words finally came out of just the right person's mouth.

"...Batman, **I** made the choice to become Robin," Dick said sternly, Batman turning to look him in the eye. "If I wanted to walk away from this, I would have. It's **MY** choice to be here."

Batman opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Robin cut him off. "And more to the point, you're not a force of vengeance. You're **JUSTICE**. You don't go around butchering bad guys, but you don't let legal loopholes and crap like that stop you from doing the right thing. You're a little grey around the edges, fine. But maybe a city like this needs someone like that. But you can't do it alone."

Batman's shoulders slumped a little, turning to face John. "...Bruce, when all of this started, I told you that I knew something you didn't about The Batman. Have you learned what that is yet?"

Batman thought for a moment, and was about to answer, when Robin cut him off again. "Uh, boss? Skyward?"

The Caped Crusader looked to the sky. Sure enough, the Bat-Signal was lit, meaning that there was still trouble in Gotham on this night, and that Commissioner Gordon needed to see him. Immediately, a hand went to his Batclaw, but he stopped, looking to Robin. His ward, so much like himself, and yet so different. He wasn't The Dark Knight, nor would he ever need to be. He was The Boy Wonder, and there was nothing that Batman could say or do that would ever change that...and really, Bruce realised as a tiny smile graced his face, that's where they would likely always be the most similar.

"...C'mon, Robin," Batman said, getting his game face back for the first time since meeting John earlier. "The Commissioner needs to see us, which means we've got a city to save."

Robin grinned like his face could float away, having to fight the urge to hug Batman right then and there. The two reached for their Batclaws, preparing to swing away, but instead took one last glance at John, who stood by, watching them with a smile, Batman knowing he still had something he had to do before he left.

"...Thank you, John," Batman called over. "I know the truth of The Batman now: He was never alone."

John nodded, acknowledging that Bruce finally got it, just as something occurred to Robin. "...Hey, John? Your name, it's not REALLY John, is it?"

The detective smirked, tipping his fedora. "...My name is J'onn J'onzz."

"...John Jones?" Robin asked, having to stifle a giggle. "You really DON'T come from that far away from Earth, are you?"

"A question for another time, I'm afraid," J'onn answered, seemingly fading into thin air.

Robin turned to face Batman, smiling widely. "...You think we could meet Superman next?"

Batman smirked, firing off his Batclaw into the night. "Maybe some other time. Right now, Gotham needs..._**The Dynamic Duo!**_"

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** Yeah, kind of a short chapter, but really, it's more of an epilogue. For those wondering, yes, I DO have ideas in mind for stories that take place following this that involve The Dynamic Duo, but for now, I'm content with leaving this story as is and coming back to do a possible sequel later.

The other thing I wanna make clear is that the upcoming one-shot I have planned, Will & Hope, DOES take place in the same alternate universe I'm working with here. I'm thinking of calling it Earth 52, since there are only supposed to be 52 realities in the Multiverse in the comics: Prime Earth (as of the New 52) and Earths 1 - 51. Lemme know what you guys think of that.

Finally, the other thing I wanna bring up is that I'm toying with the possibility of doing a Superman fanfic, again set in this alternate universe. After all, this year IS his 75th Anniversary. Let me know in the replies if you'd like to see that.

Anyway, that's it for Tales of the Caped Crusader. I hope you enjoyed, and I will see you all the next fanfic I write. Ja né!


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